The Vigilantes of Corona
by JJAndrews
Summary: Corona, the Starshine City, is plagued by evil. For the people who live in Corona, the only hope is a mysterious guardian who watches over them. Now, as a girl with incredible power joins his war on crime, they come across a dark scheme to bring the city to ruins all leading to a dramatic crescendo.
1. A City of Starshine

The Vigilante's of Corona

Adapted from the notes and ideas from Caterall and written by JJAndrews

Prologue Written by Caterall

Neither I nor Caterall own the rights to Tangled

 **AN: Now, this story is not my idea but I have taken up the task of writing it. This is in the same universe as Caterall's brilliant story, "The Hero of Arendelle City" so I recommend you read that story as well because this contains spoilers for it.**

Prologue

Corona was sometimes called the 'Starshine City', which was completely understandable to the tourists who would take up residence on the beach front outskirts of the largely southern metropolis during the summer months. To them, Corona was just the zenith of a modern paradise and encompassed the best of two ecosystems. On the east and south sides of the city, the streets were lined with palm trees and the beaches stretched without interruption for miles along the coastline; a setting which appealed to a terrific number of summertime visitors. In contrast, however, if one were to travel over to a valley to the north-west of Corona they would find a thick forest more befitting of a mid-west state, which was augmented further by the ruins of a few colonial forts.

The city itself was adept at meeting the needs of its seasonal visitors. Like any other urban hub, Corona possessed a number of shopping centres, museums, galleries and hotels, along with a stake in the film industry as the Spanish-Germanic influence in the architecture and the surrounding countryside made it ideal as a setting for TV series and movies. From investment in these amenities, the local government was able to boast a relatively strong economy for the summer months, while the industry provided by the national business of Sunbeam Media supported the city for the rest of the year.

Unfortunately, this strength of business was unable to prevent nature from impacting on the infrastructure of Corona. Like any other city in the southern states, Corona was prone to sporadic hurricanes of varying devastation. Indeed, while the metropolitan area endured there were a number of ruined houses on the fringes of the municipality which only remained standing because the local government had more or less abandoned them. The Coronan economy could only stretch so far, after all.

As a result of this, and owing to a particularly nasty hurricane a decade previously, there was a sizable proportion of the population which was at risk of being forced out of their homes with few measures to help them in the long term. Additionally, in light of the banking crisis, the class of people who were willing to resort to less-than-legal means of income had swelled. Worst of all, this mistake of social responsibility in Corona had allowed a ring of organised crime to gain a foothold in the city. One that could not be shaken off despite the efforts of the police.

Apart from its physical geography and the notably restrained presence of a criminal mastermind, there was one other reason why Corona was moderately famous. Almost every town could boast one famous individual, and to the chagrin of one Detective Inspector Maximus that one person for Corona was a man known as Flynn Rider.

To the citizens, he was a figure which seemed to tiptoe along the lines of morality. Everyone knew the story of when he had first appeared, and no one had been able to make their minds up over his ethical alignments since then. To those he had saved that night, he was a hero. To those who had heard his tale second-hand, he was a mad vigilante who indulged in pragmatic violence. Everything Flynn Rider had done since that first incident at the Museum of Corona merely maintained the uncertainty.

There was only one person who could perhaps claim to know who Flynn Rider really was behind his mask. They had met a single time, under the strangest of circumstances in a different city and had not seen each other since. Partly because she had no idea how to contact Flynn. More likely, it was due to the fact she was near impossible to find given she lived in an isolated tower outside of Corona.

The streets of central Corona had a seasonable chill to it, as the cool air filtered directly in from the ocean and clung to the pedestrians who hurried to their houses through the night. It seemed in the days of mid-December everyone focussed on getting home as soon as possible to prepare for the coming festivities, rather than drive out to the nearest mall in order to hunt down the last few remaining gifts for loved ones and perhaps a few passing acquaintances. Indeed, by nine o'clock the inner city suburban area was mostly vacant, despite it still being relatively warm outside when compared to states north of Corona. However, the people's intolerance for the slightest dip in the weather left the roads open for one of the many car chases citizens could expect in a year.

On this particular night, racing towards the forests through the maze of pavement and concrete, was a decidedly banged up truck which was far too conspicuous for the getaway it was trying to achieve. Evidently the steering and traction of the tyres had long since lost their factory standards as the driver had to swerve from side-to-side in order to keep a relatively straight line. Of course, this pedestrian endangering tactic may have just as easily been a measure to try and evade the non-existent gunfire of the three sleek police cruisers tailing it. All three had their sirens blaring, while the lead vehicle employed the use of a megaphone.

"This is Detective Inspector Maximus!" The passenger of the car bellowed, loud enough for the old women living two streets over to hear without the need for their ear trumpets. "Pull over now or we will be forced to take extreme measures!"

The fleeing driver did not heed the inspector's warning, and just carried on slipping and sliding down the road at a speed the police could easily overtake, although such a manoeuvre would be impossible in the confines of the street. Limitations such as this aggravated Maximus to no end, leasing him to lash out at the dashboard in frustration before picking up the microphone for the radio.

"Bank robber escaping straight down Westward Drive towards the highway, repeat; Westward towards the highway," Maximus grunted like a straining racehorse. "Request a road block at the intersection of Franklin Avenue. Road block at Franklin, over."

"I don't understand what he's playing at," The driver muttered, knowing full well that Maximus could hear him perfectly over the din of the sirens. "This guy just got on parole, and he's throwing it away like this?"

"He's panicking," Maximus explained, recognising the pattern of behaviour in the pursued. "He had the audacity to think we wouldn't catch up with him and now he's got nothing left up his sleeves. He'll be back in prison by breakfast."

A sudden crash of metal on glass directly in front of Maximus' face served to notify him that his estimation of events was off. There was still one trick the fleeing criminal could call upon and it appeared the said trick had just thrown a trashcan into the front of the car. As a result, the driver instinctively swerved to a halt in the belief something more than a dent had been dealt and unintentionally stopped the cruiser diagonally across the street; thus preventing the following cars from moving around them to continue the chase. Even at the lacking speed, the rusty red truck was able to chug away comfortably.

Maximus growled when he realised the error of the driver, and bellowed swift commands to resume the race as soon as possible. Anxiously, the driver restarted the car, pulling away and straightening in the road in a matter of a minute. The garbage can screeched against the tarmac as it was buffeted out the way, then it was propelled back onto the pavement when the following cars glanced off of it.

In the interim of this accidental halt, it had not escaped Maximus that a new player had entered into the game of cat and mouse. Even if the forces of momentum had caused him to avert his gaze as the car twisted around, this was not the first time there had been a mid-pursuit interruption. And, on every previous occasion, there had only been one common cause. Straining his eyes to see into the distance, Maximus was unsurprised and outraged to see the dimmed light of a motorcycle in the middle distance. It was only there for a second, since the interrupting party was somehow able to accelerate faster than a police cruiser.

"All cars, all cars. Rider has been spotted. Repeat: Rider has been spotted," Maximus grunted in determination. "He's heading in the same direction. Intercept at road block."

Flynn Rider. That annoying, disrespectful criminal who had been a thorn in the side of the police since the start of the decade. No matter how they searched, once Rider was out of sight he would remain that way until he chose otherwise. But not this time. Maximus was certain they had Rider this time, since the man had sped off without learning there was a stinger ready and waiting across the road ahead of him. Soon enough he would be deposited into the hands of the police.

Expecting all the available officers to now join the hunt, Maximus urged the driver on without paying much attention to the radio. If he had listened he would have heard the chokes of pain and gasps of blows as two police officers were taken out by an unseen force. Instead, the inspector chastised his companion to increase his haste and they were sailing along the roads towards the expected point of the road block way ahead of the following cars.

In no time the rows of houses diminished into roadside foliage, which descended down the side of the ridge the road ran down. The lines of streetlights abruptly concluded at the city limits and the only source of illumination became the steady trickle of cars on the highway which stretched out across the horizon like as an ignored beacon of pollution. Any moment now Maximus would find both the bank robber and Rider stranded without a chance for escape, unless they wished to chance running into the middle of nowhere when more police cruisers were on their way.

However, as they approached the point where Maximus hoped to see the already captured thieves he was struck by the sudden realisation that there was nothing set up. He couldn't see the headlights of the two police cars that should have lit up upon capturing the criminals. He couldn't see the silhouettes of the ruined vehicles, nor the forms of the arrested culprits of a hundred or so crimes between them. Come to think of it, Maximus couldn't even see the outline of the cops who were meant to be waiting.

Yet he could see the outlines of the cars sneak up out of the darkness, and the flash of a single brake light (which would naturally belong to a motorbike) thirty meters ahead of him.

With a sudden juddering of the tyres, all became blindingly obvious. The driver, having also not been able to spot these landmarks, had simply carried on speeding down the road in determination to stop the separate cases. However, it turned everything they had expected to see on approach was indeed there. Particularly the road stinger which had now shredded all four of their tyres and was currently doing the same to their back up.

Once the screeching of metal on tarmac had stopped and the cruiser had completely halted, Maximus burst out of his seat and onto the empty road. Reaching for his torch, he illuminated a single spear of the fading evening and searched in the brush until he found what he was looking for. Revealed by the powerful yellow light were two police officers sitting upright in one car at the roadside, both unconscious but obviously alive. There had consistently been only one count of murder attributed to Flynn Rider.

Evidently, Rider had been able to overtake the subject of the chase, a natural ally of his, and find the road block as it was being set up. The two officers had not been a match for him, as Maximus observed they were relatively new to CCPD, allowing Rider to retract the stinger until his friend had passed through but put it back out to prevent anyone following them.

Maximus internally cursed himself for not anticipating such trickery. This was the kind of mistake a rookie should make with Flynn Rider, not someone who had been on his case so long.

"Are they alright?" The driver asked, spotting the two insentient bodies.

"They're fine," Maximus hissed, marching to the remaining vacant but operable car and diving into the driver's seat. "Tell the other cars to avoid this stretch of road, but head towards Windfall Parks. That's where the robber will go. I'd bet my mother's head on it."

Driven by his frenzy for justice, Maximus sped off without another word with the sirens on. As soon as he found the freeway his own was blaring to get several other vehicles going a smidge too slowly out of the way. If he squinted, glaring into the darkness, he could just make out the taillights of his targets. He had found them.

Windfall Parks had been a vibrant community up until a year ago. Since it was only built in the middle of the previous decade the housing was cost effective, spacious and gave many tourists a second home closer to the woods than the city. The city government had poured millions into making the small collection of suburbs as appealing as possible, but had overlooked one small problem with the intended market. 'Windfall' was perhaps the most fitting name, as a hurricane had passed through the area around Christmastime the previous year and wrecked all the vacant houses. It was very hard for the owners to board up the windows when they lived outside the state.

As a result, the site of roughly one hundred houses (taking the fact that many of them were now halved in size into account) was more or less empty of occupants. Windfall was yet to have the wonders of urban regeneration applied to it, since the city planners had put the matter on their agenda but had pretty much forgotten the place existed. The houses were hidden from the sight of the freeway and the only people living nearby occupied the old fort which had been refurbished by private funds. No one really cared anymore.

However, there was at least one dilapidated husk of a building which was still in use, having been adopted by the petty-thief-turned-bank-robber who swung unsteadily into the drive way. The thief knew that it was not just the police who were now after him, and so wasted no time in sneaking into the splintered, dirty interior with its floor littered by broken debris. The night was clear and the moon was full in the sky, so it was not very difficult to see where he was going while he listened in the dimness for the tell-tale signs of his second problem of the night. But no motors echoed through the calm countryside. He began to feel slightly more secure as he ascended to the broken mezzanine.

In this particular house the damage had been such that the banisters were almost completely demolished, while large chunks of plaster and floorboards had been blasted from their fastenings. Even parts of the garage had been exposed by this destruction, and from the upstairs landing it was possible to survey the entire ground floor with all its entrances. As a precaution, the robber had set up a pile of mattresses at various locations to allow for a quite getaway without unnecessarily hurting himself.

There were no chances of Flynn Rider being able to surprise him again.

Heaving a sigh of relief, the robber hid the stolen loot in the nearest cupboard before drawing his attention to the cracked mirror which he had put back up in the master bedroom. As people go, he was not the prettiest. He was not even remotely close to looking handsome. His nose and overbite were large, teeth crooked and hair dirty with grease. It had been days since he was last able to have a shower, as a result he smelt reminiscent of a pig's bed and his skin had the appeal of such. One particular spot was even oozing something unpleasant, although he was unable to afford a doctor. A good doctor, anyway. There were a million other problems he might be able to big out about himself.

But now there was some hope. After tonight's daring escapade and the intervention of a certain someone, he would now be able to escape over the border and into Central America. Surely there was a place where he could find good company and not be abhorred for his looks. Alternatively, he could just buy some friends, given this medium amount of money would be worth far more in some countries. Yes, all looked bright now.

He was just beginning to wind down and make the preparations for tomorrow when he heard a steady creak. Quick as a flash, he was at the edge of the mezzanine and scanning the floor for any intruders. Even in the steady gloom, he could see that no one had entered. But there it was again.

Krrk. A pause. Krrk. It sounded disconcertingly like it was getting closer, but the robber couldn't understand until he turned around to face the window.

Silhouetted against the moon, crouched on the fragile windowsill, was a demon of a figure. There wasn't much that could be identified by this image, as the fabric hid the majority of his body. But at the top of his head were two ear-like points and the robber could tell that the eyes were staring directly into his.

"Wh-who are you?" The robber asked once he had gathered his breath. "You're not the usual one."

The faceless shape quivered slightly, almost as if he were laughing

"Sometimes people deserve more," The figure said in a voice which sounded as if this man had smoked every day of his life. "I'm the hero Corona deserves, but not the one it needs right now. They hunt me, because I can take it. I'm the silent guardian. A watchful protector."

This introduction was vaguely familiar, although the robber couldn't place the source of these words for the life of him. He was too worried that some lunatic was within an arm's reach of him and could beat him senseless before leaving him to Inspector Maximus. Right now, he really wished he had brought his gun with him from the bank.

"Yeah… But who are you?" The robber asked again, taking a careful step back.

The figure dropped to the floor, before rising to his full height. He stood just less than six feet tall, but this was all the robber could ascertain as the cape still shrouded the outline of this man's form.

"I'm Batman." The figure rasped, enjoying the robber's squeal of fear then whine of confusion before dropping a torch to the floor and lighting much of the room.

As it turned out, the figure who had climbed in through the window was most definitely not Batman. The cape, in reality, was nothing more than a curtain most likely salvaged from another house. His fake bat ears were really just part of a Hallowe'en cat costume. Both were quickly discarded to reveal who the imitator really was.

Standing instead in a dark blue waistcoat and a white labourer's shirt, as well as light brown trousers and leather riding boots was none other than Flynn Rider. As ever, his face was partially disguised by a black domino mask and he smiling smugly as if he were the single most hilarious person in the world.

"Nah, it's just me, Flynn," He said, dropping a few more small torches around the floor to illuminate the cavernous interior. "How's it going, Big Nose?"

The man unfairly dubbed 'Big Nose' took offence to the name with a huff of indignation, followed by the timid response of: "My name is Joh-…"

"Yeah, I don't care that much," Flynn interrupted, circling around Big Nose and inspecting the surroundings. "Your goitre looks better, though. That the prison doctor?"

"He said I needed more iodine, although I haven't had a chance to get it treated recently." Big Nose revealed as if they were old friends. Which, in fairness, they sort of were. They had certainly been aware of each other for long time.

"You know iodine is, like, really easy to find," Flynn commented, tapping on a cabinet door before shaking his head and moving on. "It's in seafood. Just eat more fish."

"I don't like fish." Big Nose commented childishly, becoming nervous as Flynn neared the cupboard where his takings for the night were hidden. He did not want to give anything away.

"Well there's your problem," Flynn was now studying a chest of drawers beside the cupboard, blissfully unaware but getting closer all the time. "Just get over yourself. Put up with it. Even dairy products are good for it."

"I'm lactose intolerant."

"My God. You're just a walking disaster aren't you?" Flynn questioned, facing Big Nose dead on as he settled a hand on the doorknob of the cupboard. Without inspecting it first, he yanked the brittle wood away from the wall and watched as the sack of money slumped to the floor. "Now this is what I wanted to talk to you about. How do you expect to stay on parole when you go and steal twenty-thousand dollars armed with a revolver? I'm surprised you even got past bank security."

Big Nose withheld from responding straight away. He was too preoccupied by the numerous lights which illuminated the upper floor of this abandoned house like a Christmas tree. Should anyone else follow them then there would be no doubt in whether or not they would be found.

"C'mon, Nosey," Flynn encouraged, picking up the sack and placing it more evenly in the middle of the floor. "If you want to remain free, you'll have to give this back. Even then, there might be trial. But if we act quickly enough we can forge enough evidence to get you off scot-free."

"Parole is not freedom," Big Nose argued, running a bony hand through his filthy hair worriedly and lunging for the sack. Unfortunately for him, Flynn sidestepped into his path and held him back. "Please. You've seen how it works. The limits the parole places on me is not enough to live on, and I can't go anywhere else. I may as well break all the conditions before I leave."

Flynn gave this statement some thought, during which time he did not release Big Nose. Instead, he studied the thief's expression.

"I get why you have to leave," He said, at last. "But you still have to get rid of that stolen money. They're just going to track you."

"No!" Big Nose yelled, grabbling for Flynn's waistcoat lapel. "I have it all planned out! I can be out of the country by tomorrow morning! Just get them off my tail for a while!"

Sadly, Flynn shook his head. "I can't do that," He reported in a voice which was half-way to being kind. "There are more people to distract than Chief Maximus."

In exasperated anger, Big Nose abruptly released Flynn's lapel and sent a glancing blow into his stomach. The strike was cushioned by the strange material of the waistcoat, but it was enough to make Flynn slide back and release Big Nose. With a strangled cry, Big Nose pounced over his desired loot to shunt the vigilante closer towards the edge of the landing. For the most part, it appeared Flynn was allowing Big Nose to take his frustration out, as both knew who was the most physically capable when it came to a fist fight.

Flynn balanced on the edge of the mezzanine, waiting for Big Nose to strike again. When he did, jumping forward in an attempt to send the taller man toppling down into the garage, the vigilante grappled for the lose fabric of a t-shirt before dragging his opponent down with him. For a brief moment the two struggled in mid-air, one rolling over the other, before they crashed onto the pile of old mattresses.

With a bursting kick to the hips, Flynn was able to flip Big Nose directly over his head. The bank robber fell heavily onto the filthy concrete, and the stun was enough to hold him back whilst the vigilante rolled back to his feet.

"Alright," Flynn said, panting from the exertion. His left elbow throbbed slightly from the impact, but he was in far better shape than his companion. "Are you ready to talk now?"

Rather than give a verbal answer, Big Nose latched onto Flynn's booted ankle and gave a weak tug. Taking momentary pity on him, Flynn hooked his hands under the poor man's arms and lifted him up so that they could speak face to face. However, it turned out this was a poor move as Big Nose snapped his forehead into the taller man's face. There was a small cracking noise, a dribble of blood and a grunt of pain as Flynn released Big Nose to tend to his wound.

On quick inspection he found that no bones were broken. It seemed Big Nose had aimed just too high and missed the majority of the fragile structure of Flynn's nose. Unfortunately, it was enough to annoy Flynn Rider more than the situation already had, so he retaliated with a harsh backhand before weaving an arm around Big Nose's neck and holding his shoulder in the opposing hand.

Luckily for Big Nose, it was at that moment that the front door was loudly smashed to pieces and someone else entered the front room. Both Flynn and Big Nose froze for the few seconds it took them to remember they were still hidden by a relatively intact wall. In that time, the newcomer called out into the dark space and alerted them to the fact that this was the last person either of them wanted to see. Or, more accurately, hear.

"Freeze!" Detective Inspector Maximus yelled, with an audible clicking to signify the safety of his gun being turned off. "I know you're in here!"

It was apparent to Flynn that Maximus would quickly figure out neither of them were in the main body of the building, seeing as he could view the entire upper floor from the front door. Logically and correctly, that would leave the garage. This meant that he either had to find a way out for both him and Big Nose, or a viable hiding spot which could also produce an advantage against the giant Flynn mockingly referred to as 'Chief'. Fortunately, the answer was more or less in front of him, as he had quickly come to this conclusion when he considered the location of the building.

As was becoming more popular, due to the sense it involved, the particular house Big Nose had chosen for a base was equipped with a hurricane shelter installed into the garage floor. Thanks to this, it was a simple matter of kicking the floor-level cover open before dragging Big Nose into the cramped space with him. Flynn barely had time to quietly slide the cover back into place again before Maximus burst into the garage; only to find the space similarly vacant.

"I don't understand you." Big Nose quietly spat at Flynn once he had digested the rapid development, but he was quickly cut off when his contester clamped a hand over his mouth.

"You can't hide!" Maximus continued declaring, even though he was bewildered by the emptiness and was privately questioning whether he had been right or not. "I have back up on the way! Your ass is mine, Rider!"

Almost directly underneath Maximus, Big Nose watched sceptically as Flynn retracted his hand. The Vigilante was watching the shallow ceiling above his head with an expression which almost touched upon fear. It was no secret that the Inspector had managed to have a large reward collected for anyone who could provide information leading to Flynn Rider's arrest. Big Nose seriously considered giving their position away for a few moments, wondering if some of the reward might be sent his way. Of course, Big Nose quickly remembered that he was a convicted felon who had broken parole literally only an hour previously. It was unlikely the notoriously law-observant Maximus would say anything amiable to him.

"First of all you try to turn me in, then you try to strangle me," Big Nose listed off in a whisper. "Now you're hiding me from the man who wants to arrest me. What the hell is going on?"

"Okay," Flynn whispered back impatiently, his face livid but his motions controlled. "You didn't let me finish before. I want you to return the money, but I'm not turning you in."

Big Nose did a double take as he watched the roof nervously, not believing what he was hearing.

"What?" Big Nose deadpanned.

"Listen, I can get you a start-up fund and help you skip town," Flynn explained, pressing his fingertips against the metal panel which would be their only escape route. "But you've got to hand over the money you stole first. Then again, if you don't want to do that, I guess I'll just leave you here and get away by myself. I'm sure they have a very comfortable cell for you."

These last two sentences were not necessary to draw out the right answer from Big Nose. It did not take a gifted negotiator to see that Flynn was trying to meet him half-way with the issue, and based on what he knew about Flynn Rider's activities this solution would not present the flaws his original plan held. This way, Big Nose would not have to pay off debts from criminal organisations for the forgeries he needed, or be remembered as a wanted criminal. Even in the worst case scenario, he could just pin it all on Flynn and get out relatively unscathed.

Flynn understood the silence as an agreement to follow his instructions, so he leant in further to allow Big Nose to hear him clearly.

"Okay, I'm going distract Chief Maximus. I'll keep him looking the other way while you go out the front door," He described, running his fingers lightly across the metal ceiling panel. "Then you're going to meet me outside the Sunbeam building in two hours. After that, you're free to go wherever you wish, just as long as you don't come back to this city."

The last comment sounded more like a threat than anything else, and certainly one Big Nose would not challenge on his life. Among the few facts and snippets of stories that could be pulled together about Flynn Rider, everyone knew how the first case covered in the media ended. It was for that reason alone the lower classes of criminals feared crossing him. Especially if he was also willing to offer them with a way out.

"Deal," Big Nose spluttered, feeling a rise in the tension as he prepared himself to run at the first convenience. "But how are you going to distract Maximus?"

Flynn held up one finger, listening intently to the carefully treading feet above them. During the course of their conversation it could be assumed that Maximus had slowly and methodically searched the surroundings with great care without yet noticing the camouflaged metal plate in the middle of the floor. Gradually, both the occupants of the shelter heard the dull footsteps progress over their heads. And then Maximus trod on the entrance panel, making the metal dip on its runners slightly.

With an explosion of energy, Flynn yanked the plate open and leapt through the space. He had calculated the manoeuvre in such a way that it threw Maximus off balance, as his stance was suddenly shortened, which allowed the inspector to be knocked over fairly easily. As Maximus fell, Flynn dropped to his knees and pressed his foe's head into the ground so that they were both staring in the same direction. Then, with a knee digging into Maximus' pelvis and his arms bent back uncomfortably, Flynn pinned him there.

"Rider!" Maximus seethed, struggling against the weight of the thorn in his side. "Get off me!"

"So you can arrest me? God, Max. Think about it," Flynn jibed, looking over his shoulder and nodding for Big Nose to make his escape. "I mean don't get me wrong, I love our little chats. We haven't had one in ages. But you never seem to listen to my side of the story."

"I know your side of the story!" The Inspector raged, well aware his primary target for tonight was escaping. "You're a thug! You're a murderer! And you're obstructing the course of justice!"

In the other room, the door slammed shut and was quickly followed by the sound of an old engine starting. Flynn held Maximus against the floor, despite the unrelenting struggle, until the unhealthy chugging noise disappeared into the night. Once certain that Big Nose was safely away, Flynn patted down the inspector's pockets until he found a pair of handcuffs. With a bit of wrestling and cursing on both sides, Maximus was chained to the handle of the shelter's entrance just as more police sirens became audible in the distance.

"Well, it was nice seeing you Chief," Flynn commented, lunging back before Maximus could grab him. "But I'd really better get going before you're friends arrive. You'll find the stolen cash upstairs and maybe some of your dignity. Who knows?"

Before Maximus could retort with his standard bellows of anger and promises to make sure the vigilante saw a prison cell, Flynn Rider jumped out of a shattered window and managed to evade the cops for another night.

Just before ten-fifteen, Flynn dropped down the side of the Sunbeam Media office into a side alley and watched the few December stragglers meander home aimlessly. Towards the coast, the thumping of club music and the collective shrieks of partying echoed obnoxiously. The Christmas period had barely started, yet it already sounded like the disco-enthusiastic people in their teens and twenties were prepared to see in the New Year. Of course, Flynn also knew that it was also a good spot for muggers, murderers and all kinds of perverts to strike. Once he was done with this, the clubs would be his next stop.

Sadly, saving people near or in clubs had a nasty side effect of reminding him of her. And he just couldn't allow anyone to get too mixed up in his affairs. He'd always known it, but that particular experience had just reinforced that tenet of his life.

When the clock struck the quarter hour, the form of Big Nose emerged from the shadows across the street and wandered semi-casually to stand just in front of the building's steps. Flicking up the baggy hood he had hastily picked up from his lair, Flynn strode confidently to meet the nervously shaking form and tapped him on the shoulder. It was secretly humorous to watch a man who had braved prison jumps in shock.

"Oh, it's you." Big Nose needlessly pointed out. Flynn knew who he was, and did not need a near-total stranger telling him.

"Your name is now Derek Johansson," Flynn abruptly started, holding out a scrap of paper folded into a tight wad. "On this you'll find an account number, social security, date of birth. Enough to make Derek exist. It's not much, but it'll get you started."

It took a moment for Big Nose to comprehend what he was being given. Once he had absorbed the news, however, he wasted no time in snatching the paper from Flynn and practically grovelling at his feet in gratitude. Should anyone pass by now, their entire cover could be blown.

"Alright, yeah, you're welcome," Flynn said in annoyance. "Now get up."

"But how did you do this?" Big Nose asked, unfolding the scraps and staring at the new identity in awe.

"Just some software I confiscated from the Stabbingtons," Flynn stated like it was nothing, even though he knew Big Nose would probably fear the brothers more than him. "And I took about twenty dollars from Gates and Trump, and anyone else who's rich. So don't say anything to anyone."

"I won't." A promise if ever there was one.

"Good, now get out here." Flynn harshly instructed, staying just long enough to watch Big Nose run away and hopefully out of his life forever.

Now that this job was finished with, Flynn found himself at a loose end. Whereas he had promised himself he would patrol the clubs for a few hours, a undeniable fatigue washed in over him. He felt this was due. For the last week and a half, he had pulled all-nighters and then slept for a few hours after his day job was over. Surely he could have a night off.

But despite all this, Flynn found himself marching towards the clubs. Who knew? Maybe there wouldn't be much going on and he could have an early night after all.

"Get up." A gruff voice instructed through a blissful fog of sleep, just as a sharp object dragged him up and off the bed.

Eugene Fitzherbert woke up just as he hit the wooden floor of the small rented bedroom in an old Coronan inn, his startled cry choked by the pile of dust which arose around him. For a few moments he tried to find some warm covers from the blankets which had fallen with him, before he gave up, resigned himself to the cold morning air pouring in through the open window, and sat up to face his landlord.

Albert Hooke, or Hookhand due to the terrifying prosthetic where his right hand should be, stared down at Eugene. It was safe to say he was unimpressed by his employee's performance and was expecting a full explanation as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Eugene was the one person who never gave a reasonable account for why he overslept so much, and could get away with it since he was, coincidentally, the only person who would work the dayshift at the Snuggly Duckling. Besides, lots of people overslept. It was just one of those normal habits.

However, Eugene could tell Hooke the truth. But that would involve revealing that Flynn Rider operated out of his bar and then recounting the stories of all the people he had had to beat up last night. This list included two drug-dealers, a potential homicide, and one case of an abusive relationship. And Eugene didn't want to go into that story.

"Did you meet a girl last night?" Hooke asked, this being the reason Eugene gave half the time.

"No, believe it or not I went clubbing." Eugene grumpily offered, draping the thin blankets over his shoulders and getting to his feet.

"Yeah right, work at a bar all day and then relax by going to a different one?" Hooke scoffed, before jabbing his fake hand at Eugene's tiny bedside table. "Or did it have something to do with this mysterious number you've kept since your holiday?"

"Leave that!" Eugene shrilly instructed, snatching the note paper from beneath the plastic fingers and hiding it in a drawer. "That's my friend's number. But I'm not sure when she's coming to Corona, if ever," He rounded on his employer tiredly and somewhat frustrated. "Don't you have deadbeats to clear out?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Hooke sneered, gesturing towards the narrow staircase with his remaining hand. "It's your shift. Last night's drunks are your problem now."

Bitterly, Eugene internally remarked on the fact he was always dealing with drunks one way or another, but he watched impassively as Hooke descended the stairs and left him to get dressed.

For a moment before he left his bedroom, Eugene considered retrieving the phone number from his bedside and giving her a call. After all, it had been three months. Surely she'd be back by now, if not for a while. And what could the damage be? Accidentally remind her what it was like to be taken hostage and shot?

On second thoughts, Eugene turned away from his room hurriedly. Calling one Miss Engel could wait for another day.


	2. In the Dark

_The Vigilantes of Corona_

 _I do not own the rights to Tangled_

 _Chapter One_

 _She was there again. In that warehouse, amongst the abandoned crates and beneath a leaking roof. For a warm summer night it was unnaturally cold, causing her to shiver through the thin clothing she had put on the night before. Sweat and tears blurred her vision, her nose was blocked, and she was breathing heavily through her mouth as if the air was going to run out any second. Any single snapshot of consciousness could be her last, even though she knew her captors were in the upstairs office. They hadn't said what they wanted, nor how long they were going to keep her here. All she knew was that the ropes around her wrists, binding her to the creaky chair, irritated her skin to the point she suspected she was bleeding._

 _It was dark, and there was no hope._

 _She couldn't remember how she got there. All that could be recalled from the dazed pictures that occasionally buzzed through her mind was she had been somewhere very noisy before this. There had been someone, someone nice she spoke to. Foolishly, she had rejected his kind offer and then she had been snatched away. The only other thing that re-emerged from time to time was that two voices, male and female, were calling after her._

 _But now it was dark, and there was no hope._

 _She thought about her family in the long intervals of silence, as night turned to day and then back again. Her mother and father, who would only find out she was here when her body was discovered. When was the last time they had spoken? A day or a week? Could it be a fortnight? She really couldn't remember. What was the last thing she had said to either of them?_

 _There were her cousins, one of whom was the most powerful woman in Arendelle. Surely they would be searching for her? Hopefully they were searching for her. Whether they would find her before it was too late was a different question. Her kidnappers may not have issued a ransom._

 _Of course, her nanny had been right the entire time. In the city there were always ruffians and thugs, people who were prepared to take advantage of a naïve young girl for their own gain. One of the few things she could picture was the triumphant, smug grin of her nanny; which would inevitably, if fleetingly, manifest itself when she heard the news. Her feelings towards her primary caretaker were ambivalent, but this reaction was as certain as the presence of blood down her wrists. If she got out of this, she doubted she would ever leave home again._

 _Otherwise; who else was there to care? She had no friends, excluding a pet chameleon that lacked conversational skill. She'd never had any part-time job. Hell, it was unlikely her tutors would bat an eyelid if she was murdered. They had been superfluous to her learning since her mid-teens. There was simply no one else._

 _Except, perhaps, the strange man she had met on the train. The one who had tried to get her out of the club before the kidnapping. He had been the first new person she had met in years and surprised her by the bizarre kindness he gave her. On their first meeting he'd acted as if he was the only person who mattered, but managed to recall several details about her on reunion. Maybe, just maybe, he would know where she was. Maybe he would come to her rescue._

 _But it was dark now, and there was no hope._

 _Time shifted before her eyes like autumn leaves being brushed by the wind. She was standing, the stinging in her wrists diminished, and her legs were surprisingly stable. From behind her hiding spot of crates, she could see two blue figures fighting against her giant kidnappers. Snow and ice crystals whirled through the air, unnaturally for the time of year. The seasonal antithesis of weather surrounded one of the blue people, the woman, leaving the man to take down an opponent who was easily a foot taller than him._

 _Despite her reservations, she felt herself rising from her spot to help when she saw her saviour being lifted by the neck. But before she could do anything, the man caught her eye and stared her down, making it clear she was not to endanger herself unnecessarily. When she hesitated for a second, trying to decide whether to follow his instructions or help anyway, she watched him swing his legs back and forth like a pendulum. Then, in demonstration of an intimate gymnastic ability, he clamped one boot on the giant's shoulder before swiping up with the other directly into the chin. The kidnapper fell like an avalanche among the lingering pieces of blizzard and she ducked down behind the wood again._

 _Another shift, like tumbling through a curtain, and this time she found herself lying on the floor. How she got here was initially unclear. Above her, dimly, she could see two faces peering down at her as perfect reflections of terror. The kidnappers were nowhere to be seen, yet somehow the looming sense of danger had not faded. Instead, the world had started to fade from her._

 _Second by second, she watched the kind, scared faces become a little foggier. Their soft, panicked words were slightly more muffled. The feeling of the rough wood on her back became forgotten. Gradually, all that remained was the queerest sensation of deflating; as if heat and volume were escaping her from an unknown point. She couldn't feel any pain; only the slight, increasing numbness of floating on nothing._

 _With fumbling, empty-sensed fingers, she reached down to where she thought the feeling emanated from. Her skin, clothing and vision were suddenly flooded by a stabbing, burning redness which engulfed her for the briefest of seconds. The sight of her two heroes were completely blotted out, although she wasn't sure they were even there anymore._

 _Then, as quickly as the deep reddish-brown had dominated her senses, it abruptly turned darker than the night sky and all sound stopped. She could not see a thing, hear the slightest noise or grab at anything around her. All at once, she had been ripped from the painted canvas of the world and thrust into the deepest of voids from which there seemed no escape._

 _She could not see the light._

Gasping as if rising from the inky depths of the sea, Rapunzel Engel rose from her bed in a panic and toppled onto thick carpet below. Sleep blurred her eyes even as she frantically tried to blink it away, while her muscles twitched from the sudden exertion. Her heart pounded in her ears, the blood sounding like it was prepared to burst the veins. For a long interval from her perspective, which was actually only a minute from a neutral stance, she breathed erratically and deeply; forcing herself to remember where she was.

I'm at home, she told herself. The one eye which wasn't buried in the furry wool of the rug strained upwards to see her ceiling mural of the Coronan sun surrounded by happy, dancing figures. Yes, I'm at home. I just had a nightmare. I'm definitely not… not back there again.

It was almost a second later that the by-now familiar glow of her gift filled her veins and repaired what little damage she had dealt herself on her journey to the floor. In less than thirty-seconds her heart rate had returned to its steady rate and the lag of lactic acid in her muscles lifted. Just over a minute later she was fully awake and had rolled over, considering the daily ritual which had emerged since returning home.

It had all started about four months ago, and she remembered the very moment that she had decided running off to Arendelle was a good idea. If only she had known the results of that fateful, spur of the moment rush to force her into action. Back then, she had internally repeated that such a rash action was good for her. It would show her family she was capable of taking care of herself, and she would be able to catch up with her cousins; one of whom she had not seen for four years.

Of course, had she known that the quiet, reclusive Elsa Noble was in fact the Arendelle Vigilante now known as the Snow Queen; Rapunzel figured she might have been intimidated into staying home after all. But, alas, barely anyone knew the truth. Not even Anna was aware her sister was jumping off rooftops and beating up the perpetrators of illegal activity every night. Hell, Elsa had even managed to keep her greatest secret from Anna as well. The revelation that Elsa was capable of cryokinesis, and had been all her life, was frankly astonishing. It amazed Rapunzel to think that absolutely no one, excluding a few allies of Elsa's, had put two and two together.

Indeed, Rapunzel could have gone her entire time in Arendelle without spotting the obvious similarity between the vigilante and the CEO of the Noble Corporation if it hadn't been for… Rapunzel swallowed hard as she remembered that fateful night; if it hadn't been for the Stabbington Brothers.

The Stabbingtons were notorious in Corona, in equal measures due to their shared number of death sentences and murders committed. They were enormous brutes, with a combined height of thirteen-feet at least and three eyes between them. And the only reason they had been driven out of the city was because of Corona's own costumed crusader; Flynn Rider.

In apparent desperation after a final legal blow was dealt, the Stabbingtons had fled to Arendelle in order to find a way out of the country. Unfortunately for them, Flynn Rider had not been far behind; and it was under the cosmic coincidence of picking the same train seats that he had also crossed paths with Rapunzel. As one might expect, she did not know that Flynn Rider was actually sat across from her at that time. She had just thought he was another random man taking a trip north.

But then, as inevitable as it apparently was, Rapunzel had become an interest of a much higher power in Arendelle: given that she now had ties to both media sensations. Within three days of her arrival in Arendelle she was kidnapped by the Stabbingtons. As planned, the Snow Queen and Flynn Rider came to rescue her while another crime was taking place across the city, and they were successful in stopping the Stabbingtons until, by a fluke of probability, one of the foes had been conscious enough to reach a gun and fire at them.

For reasons Rapunzel still did not understand, she had thrown herself in front of the Snow Queen and taken the bullet in an unnecessary act of sacrifice.

As it had later turned out, the bullet could not have penetrated the Snow Queen's costume, so Rapunzel had unintentionally left the pair of vigilantes with the new responsibility of saving her without revealing their identities to the public in the process. This had led them to the point where Dr Ernest Pabbie, an advisor of the Snow Queen, was preparing to operate on her in a makeshift hospital ward located on an abandoned subway station. Despite the odds, such a procedure could have worked. However, Elsa's nerves had been shot by the trauma and Flynn Rider had recognised that the blood loss would make a recovery risky.

And during the resulting squabble; Rapunzel died.

She had actually, medically died. No pulse, no breath, not even any lingering brain activity if they had looked at her in an MRI scanner. For five minutes, Rapunzel Engel had passed on to the land of the dead.

Fortunately, Elsa was not without access to experimental remedies and, concluding her argument with Pabbie, injected the corpse of Rapunzel with a previously untested serum which had the potential to heal the damage.

To this day, Rapunzel was not exactly clear how the serum worked. The one explanation she had been granted described how the genes of a rainforest planet which was known for producing oils capable of accelerating the healing process had been inserted into a virus. As a result, when Rapunzel was injected, every cell in her body had been affected by this new gene in a matter of hours. And its potency was apparent.

It had taken five minutes for the serum to bring Rapunzel back to life, with more long-term consequences becoming visible in the following months.

Since that life-changing incident, Rapunzel had measured that her body fat had increased by five percent while her muscle mass was one-point-five times what it had been. Yet she had not grown in any notable direction. Her height remained the same, at an average of five foot three, and if anything; her clothes were slightly baggier. This, however, was due to the second symptom of the serum: her metabolism had now increased to ridiculous proportions.

At first, the fact that Rapunzel's body now processed all food much faster than the regular human had manifested in dizzy spells of hypoglycaemia, negative effects which should have been controlled by the serum in her bloodstream but was initially complicated by a separate problem. Thankfully, the hypoglycaemia was rectified by simply eating to match the demands of her stomach.

Otherwise, the most important change in her biology following what could really be classed as an artificial genetic mutation was a heightened healing factor. While she was still in Arendelle, her cousin Anna had compared this ability to that of 'Wolverine', although Rapunzel did not fully understand how this related to her condition. Regardless, the healing factor had proven itself an asset during what remained of her holiday in the north. In fact, it had repaired all the damage dealt to her from accidentally cutting her palm to being stabbed to being thrown through a window by a twelve-foot-tall monster.

All in all, she had had a surreal year.

And now she was home again; in the renovated tower of a colonial fort outside of Corona. After all of the excitement, the days now plodded with the enthusiasm of a turtle trying to complete its tax returns. She had been back one month, and in all that time she had only left the tower twice. Once was to try her hand at driving with her nanny (a failure her guardian never refrained from reminding her about) and the other occasion was to see her mother in hospital after an appendectomy. As she realised at that moment, mundanely picking through her wardrobe for clothes she hadn't worn recently, Rapunzel had seen either of her parents about three times since her return.

One of those times was on the night of her return, when James and Elizabeth Engel had taken her to a fancy new restaurant near the boardwalk to hear all about her trip (including the kidnapping, but with the omission of the experimental recovery technique). A fortnight later, Rapunzel had gone to the hospital on the aforementioned visit. And finally, her father had dropped by the tower to make sure her new exercise equipment was delivered and installed properly. That was it.

Rapunzel didn't resent the absence of her parents that much, mind. She knew that their jobs were demanding and important, so she naturally had to take a backseat to their priorities. Besides, Rapunzel was more or less accustomed to the loneliness by now.

James Engel was, in all respects, a self-made man. Whenever she had seen her grandfather, Rapunzel was always treated to the story of how James had taken a paper route as soon as he was old enough; then had started buying shares in a few companies when he had the money available. Although the list was ever changing, the ones which stood out in Grandpa Engel's memory were the Noble Corporation, Westerguard Industries, and the Arcadian Building Association. In time, and with 'shrewd trading', James Engel collected enough money to found Sunbeam Media; a company which itself started with printing daily newspapers and then jumped across onto the internet when the time was right. His endeavours had been a success, and he was now wealthy enough to own a number of comfortable properties across the country. None of them, however, were used often seeing as his passion was the survival of his company.

Elizabeth Engel, on the other hand, come from relatively old money and was locally famous for organising numerous charitable causes which could whisk her off to anywhere on the planet with short notice. She had first met James while he was reporting on her work in Burundi, and for a time afterwards her stories would be published in the Sunbeam Standard before any other journal or paper. Courtship between the two had been difficult, given the demands of their occupations, but they were eventually married with Rapunzel being born nearly a decade afterwards.

With this background in mind, the care of an infant had been a serious task until it was decided that a nanny would be hired to care for Rapunzel most of the time. It was an unconventional set-up, but it worked for the most part. The only criticism Rapunzel could make, which she never said aloud, was that she felt as if she hardly knew her parents on a personal level. Indeed, the brief meetings since she had come home only drove this point home harder.

But instead of dwelling into bitterness on this matter, Rapunzel indulged herself in the limited freedom this gave her to pursue her interests. Namely: art and gymnastics.

The observer of Rapunzel's skills may have remarked on the fact that she qualified as a renaissance woman; she had achieved high grades in all her tutored subjects, she spoke German fluently, and was well versed in the modern political situation due to her father's work. But, if asked, Rapunzel would say her greatest interest was in all manners of art. Be it painting, singing, acting or dancing; she had set her sights on mastering the techniques her isolation gave the time to research. And master them she did.

A visitor needed only glance around her home to realise just how single-minded Rapunzel could be in her pursuits. For instance; there was not a single wall in the tower which was not covered in acrylic paint. The project had taken Rapunzel years, and her progress could be seen not only in production, but also in skill. As a rule, Rapunzel never painted over one of her works (unless she was adding necessary details) and so it was possible to trace her offers to the world of art from the childish handprints in a corner by the stairs to the bizarre cubist portrait of her nanny in the bathroom to the chronically evolving impression of the night sky on the ceiling. Her home was her museum.

As her nanny often commented, it was fortunate that the tower only had three rooms to live in. Otherwise Rapunzel may have spent her entire life painting. Not that she could see an issue in this life. So that was the decoration of her living room, her bathroom and her bedroom.

To fill in the rest of the time, Rapunzel had entertained herself by practicing the guitar and stitching together a large percentage of her own clothes. Cooking had also been an interest of hers, which her nanny had indulged from the moment Rapunzel could reach the work surfaces. And reading, well, she read quite a lot. True, there were probably only three books in the building, but Rapunzel had access to all the short stories her father had ever published in his newspaper from her computer. By her own admittance, she did not know classic literature beyond what her tutors prescribed. Shakespeare, of course, she had read (and put on many one-hander productions of the comedies), but her other books were a cookbook and Grey's Anatomy.

Now, completely awake and alert, she looked at her digital clock on the cabinet next to her bed and saw it was seven in the morning _._ She went to bed at two in the morning after hours on the treadmill.

She went off to start her usual morning routine. The young woman hurried into the towers lounge. It was the main room of the tower which was equipped with a kitchen, a living room area with a couch and an armchair, a TV, radio and an easel with a blank canvas on it. Along one wall was an array of exercise equipment including a treadmill and an exercise bike. Both were relatively new, only bought just after her return from Arendelle after the encounter with... _no, no, no. Don't go to there again._ Rapunzel walked towards the kitchens fridge and opened it, pulling out a protein shake for breakfast. When she sat down at her kitchen table she tipped back her head and drank the entire bottle quickly. With breakfast done she started on the rest of her morning routine. She began by turning on the TV which was showing the news.

" _And in a surprise the body of Raniero Fosco was found this morning in a back alley. The wanted mafia boss, who vanished last week, was apparently killed with several knife wounds in the back."_

"What are the odds?" asked Big Nose.

There were a few people in the Snuggly Duckling. It was a fairly low end bar with a scratched up wooden floor and walls covered with an odd collection of trinkets including horns, pictures of old hunters and, for some reason, a large tree trunk in the corner. Eugene was lazily serving a drink to Big Nose, one of the out of work thugs who frequented the bar.

"What do you mean?" Eugene asked him, doing his best to keep up his cover.

"Fosco was a Made Man," Big Nose explained. "Where the Hell has you been living?"

"Downstairs," Eugene deadpanned.

"As I was saying, he was a Made Man. You're not allowed to kill a Made Man or you die."

"Haven't a million bosses been killed lately?" asked Eugene, still keeping up his guise of Eugene the young bartender.

"Yeah," said Hooke, at the other end of the bar. "I heard a rumour that this new boss 'Mother' is doing it."

"What kinda man calls himself Mother?" asked Big Nose, and another of the thugs at the bar, a Mime of all people, shook his head dramatically.

"Word is Mother's a woman," Hooke told him.

"Ah a woman," Big Nose said and, at once, everyone in the bar groaned at the hopeless romantic.

...

"I don't see why you couldn't just put on one of your own one hand shows again."

"I know but I just wanted to see it on stage."

"After that silly stunt you pulled in Arendelle I can't imagine why you want to go outside again."

Rapunzel made sure to look away from her nanny as she rolled her eyes. Gothel was a woman a little taller than Rapunzel with curly black hair and an age which was hard to guess. The two of them were walking down a street in Corona. While there was still a chill in the air it was a bit warmer than it had been for a while so Rapunzel and her nanny, Gothel, had taken the opportunity to go the theatre to see a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. It was starting at one in the afternoon and they had about half an hour until it started.

"Well I just want to get out more. You know, show the world I'm not afraid and nothing can stop me."

"Still so naive my little flour," Gothel said gently as they continued walking.

"Rapunzel?"

 _That voice. I know that voice._

She froze at the sound but she slowly managed to turn around and saw, to her surprise, Eugene Fritzherbert.

'"Eugene," she said happily and hurried towards him ending with a small hug. "It's been ages."

"Yeah it has," he said sheepishly.

"Rapunzel what have I told you about talking to strangers?"

Rapunzel physically flinched and turned around to see a disapproving Gothel striding towards her.

"He's not a stranger," she quickly told her.

"Yeah I'm not a stranger."

"He'safriendImetinArendelle," Rapunzel explained at a million miles a second.

"And look how that turned out," Gothel told Rapunzel before quickly grabbing the girl by the wrist and dragging her along behind her.

"Don't forget to call me Eugene!" Rapunzel shouted.

"I won't forget!" he shouted back at her.

A moment later Eugene realised what had happened and then he jumped in the whooping. Then he walked away quickly, avoiding the curious stares from other pedestrians.

 _Right,_ he thought to himself, _back to lunch break._

 **AN: Well that was the end of the first chapter. For the record I didn't write most of this chapter. My work started at the scene in the Snuggly Duckling.**

 **I'll try to update as quickly as I can but it may take a while due to exams.**


	3. Together Again

The Vigilante's of Corona

I do not own the rights to Tangled

Chapter Two

Together Again

 _This is a Dexter finale sized mess._ Eugene's quad bike raced faster down the dirt road in the valley north-west of Corona. He'd been infiltrating a drug deal earlier that night with a crate of pain killers Frosty had given him when good old Maximus and the boys in blue turned up. Eugene had to think fast and managed to "borrow" a quad bike from one of the criminals he'd been interrogating. Now, well, he was in a mess. On each side of him was a solid wall of trees and behind him a line of police cars in single file. In the lead car was, of course, Maximus who was leaning out the car window trying to get a good shot off at him. A bullet flew straight past Eugene and he gritted his teeth, trying to think of a way out of there. The trees raced past him as another bullet clawed through the air, almost hitting one of the quad bikes wheels.

 _There_

Just ahead of Eugene was a narrow dirt path leading off the road, racing closer and closer towards him with every second. It looked to be narrow enough for the bike but there was no way a car could get through it. Getting onto it needed perfect timing. At his bikes speed he could easily overshoot it and crash into the trees or undershoot it and crash into the trees. He raced closer and closer and then, at the perfect moment, he pulled a sharp turn to the left and his bike spun, kicking up a large cloud of dust, and then he and the bike shot down the path. Eugene looked behind him and felt some satisfaction as he saw the lead police car only just managing to stop. However, he flinched as the car behind it crashed into the first car.

'No hard feelings Max!' Eugene shouted back to them before turning his head around just in time to see the boulder ahead of him. 'Oh damn.'

It was too late to stop but he was able to jump off the quad bike, letting him momentum carry him through the air and over the boulder, before he landed on the ground at a roll. He took a moment to recover his strength before he started running with police officers just behind him. Eugene ran as fast as he could before plunging into the trees. He sprinted at full pace, jumping over rocks and up turned rocks as he went. Unfortunately for him the sound of police dogs barking snapped at his ears as they raced after the vigilante. He didn't turn around. He kept running. He needed to keep running. _Bingo,_ Eugene thought to himself when he saw the cliff wall about twenty feet ahead of him. It was almost twice as tall as him so he ran faster and faster, building up momentum as he went. Right next to the cliff was a tree so he aimed for that and jumped, kicking off of it and propelling himself over the cliff. Eugene ran again and saw another cliff ahead of him. He stopped there at a section of the cliffs covered in ivy and he put his hand against it. Expecting to feel solid rock behind the ivy he almost fell over when he felt nothing but air behind it. Cautiously he pushed the ivy aside and saw a long tunnel through the rock which he moved through. He'd been in caves in the area before and in the past he had encountered a death cult, a swinger party and a rare art collection. With that in mind he went through it slowly, ready to get out in case he bumped into more Temple of Doom or Benidorm rejects. However, after about five minutes of walking he found a light at the end of the tunnel which he walked towards, revealing at once a large valley. At the heart of it, on a slight hill, was one of the many old colonial forts which were scattered all over the place. However, judging from the well used path leading up to the fort and the satellite dish on the roof, this one was lived in. Still, he couldn't see any cars and there was no noise, combined with the police hunting for him, he decided to risk it and go in.

...

Inside Corona itself at the time, in a dark room, a man was arguing for his life. He stood before a dark figure, a woman by the voice, who watched him was dark eyes.

'I'm sorry Mother but Flynn Ryder ruined it all. I'm sorry.'

'Don't worry,' Mother told him and he allowed a small ounce of hope to enter his heart. 'We all make mistakes.'

'Thank you Mother.'

'Why are you thanking me?' she asked, her voice suddenly growing as sharp as a blade.

'You just said that we all make mistakes.'

'I did. I never said I forgive you,' she said before turning her head to look at another woman standing in the shadows. 'Womak dear, please come over here.'

The torturer/executioner for hire slowly walked out of the shadows towards Mother. She was a little below average height, had short black hair which framed her face, and wore a gray vest and leather trousers. Hanging at her waist was a katana.

'Womak dear,' Mother said and, although no one could see it, she was grinning, 'remind me what you do with intestines.'

'Well,' Womak said in her normal Texas accent, 'I normally give my victim plenty of drugs to keep them awake, cut the person open, slowly pull out their intestines, cut the intestines up while they watch and then I break the intestines down to nothing but base sugars, use the sugars to make caramel and then I force feed the caramel to the victims kids.'

'Then what are you waiting for?'

'NO! PLEASE NO!'

...

Rapunzel couldn't help but grin madly as she examined the costume standing in the back of her wardrobe. It was her new uniform, or as the press insisted on calling it, a costume. Making a mental note to ask dad to call them uniforms, she went back to examining her suit. She had been working on it on and off for a while since her return from Arendelle but her brief encounter with Eugene the week before had galvanised her efforts to completely finish it. Her uniform was based on a prototype body armour which was in many ways inferior to some of the later designs from the same line, such as the version worn by her cousin Elsa when she did her own vigilante duties over in Arendelle City. For example the sleeves only reached the elbows on the mannequin it stood on and the armour padding around the chest was thicker than Elsa's. The purple material was also a bit weaker than Elsa's and direct hits from bullets could pierce it. That wasn't too big a problem but she didn't like the idea of getting shot-again. Rapunzel shuddered at the memory which she struggled to keep away from the front of her mind. She went back to studying her uniform to distract her. There was a blonde wig on the head as well which she hastily pulled out of a dressing up box at Anna's apartment. There was also a domino mask. It was very simple and perfectly served the job of hiding her identity. As for weapons her uniform had two long lengths of yellow, military grade silk with weights at one end. They allowed her to hook onto ledges and they could be used as clubs although they were not strong enough to cause any serious damage. However, they could easily ensnare a man or pull a weapon out of someone's hands. The two lengths of cloth were connected to her suit at her shoulders just below her wig, almost making them look like two very long stretches of hair. That observation hadn't been made by her but by Anna after she e-mailed her cousin in Arendelle a picture of it. It wasn't long until she received a response simply reading "You look like Sailor Moon. I love it." She'd also made a few modifications to the uniform as well. It was nothing major though. The change was a pair of vambrace's made from Kevlar to cover her otherwise unprotected forearms. She knew that she could heal wounds like cuts or lacerations but she wasn't sure she could re-grow entire limbs and she didn't want to put that to the test. The vambrace's would give her increased protection there.

Rapunzel was snapped out of the glee her uniform gave her by a strange scratching sound. At first she thought it was Gothel so she quickly grabbed a large panel and pressed it into her wardrobe, hiding her uniform inside the concealed space at the back. When she was younger she used to hide sweets there. Now it hid a far greater secret. Rapunzel hurried out of her bedroom when she realised that the noise was coming from outside her window.

'Burglars,' she said and her first thought was to grab her weapons when she remembered that could reveal her secret later on.

It was at that second she had a flashback. An alley. A bin. Muggers. Frying pan. She raced towards the kitchen and grabbed a frying pan from one of the draws and ran to the side of the window, pressing herself against the wall and clutching her makeshift weapon tightly in her hands. The windows opened followed by the curtains. A man climbed in and only had a brief moment to survey the room when Rapunzel smashed the frying pan down onto the back of his head and he fell forwards, knocked out. Rapunzel nodded to herself and took a good look at the man she'd just knocked out. She only had to glimpse at the domino mask on his face for her to realise who he was.

'Eugene?' she gasped. 'I just knocked out Flynn Ryder.'

 **AN: Sorry it took me so long to update this but I was over thinking my Lord of the Rings stories. Also, this is shorter than the other chapters but I'll try to make up for it with the others. What do you think of it and please give me your thoughts.**

 **Review Responses:**

 **Caterall: I hope I can keep the story up to your standards.**

 **SharKohen: Thanks for your review. So, what did you think of Mother in this?**


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